


Nomad, Tailor, Soldier, Spy

by roe87



Series: Shrunkyclunks au's [11]
Category: Captain America (Comics), Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Action, Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Disabled Character, Canon-Typical Violence, Captain America Steve Rogers/Modern Bucky Barnes, First Dates, First Meetings, Flirting, Fluff, Gay Bucky Barnes, Gay Steve Rogers, Happy Ending, Hopeful Ending, Human Disaster Steve Rogers, Humor, Identity Porn, Identity Reveal, Implied Bottom Bucky Barnes, Light Angst, Long haired Bucky Barnes, M/M, Meet-Cute, Nomad Steve Rogers, Not Captain America: The Winter Soldier Compliant, Older Bucky Barnes, Pining, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Russian Bucky Barnes, SHIELD, Sassy Steve Rogers, Secret Identity, Shrunkyclunks, Shy Bucky Barnes, Spy Bucky Barnes, Tailoring, Vigilante
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-11
Updated: 2020-07-11
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:21:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25191595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roe87/pseuds/roe87
Summary: James is a tailor who specialises in making suits for vigilantes completely off the books. He's been doing it a long time and he's very good at it.Then a tall handsome blond shows up on his doorstep, asking James to make him a suit with the most impractical design: a floor to ceiling titty window.(Or, Steve wakes up from the ice, Googles whatthotmeans and decides his new superhero identity will be the living embodiment of thot from now on.)~~Bottom Bucky bingo fills: Shrunkyclunks, Age Diff, Russian Bucky, and Domino mask.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Series: Shrunkyclunks au's [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1350988
Comments: 91
Kudos: 383
Collections: Hell Yeah Bottom Bucky, Russian Bucky Barnes





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HeyBoy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeyBoy/gifts).



> For HeyBoy, who requested Steve's classic Nomad suit. Happy belated Birthday! ❤
> 
> ~~

_(panel from Avengers: Back To Basics)_

~~

Steve went to the downtown address Natasha had given him.

He walked right by it the first time, as the tiny tailor's store was tucked away on an alley corner and painted dark colors to blend in, with tinted windows.

Very curious, Steve thought, as he approached the store.

It looked antique, like it could've been there since well before Steve's time growing up in the same streets. He tried to recall if he'd seen it before but, well, Steve hadn't been able to afford tailored clothes back then. If this place had been a tailor's Steve didn't remember it, but he did remember the diner that used to be down the block, as he'd gotten into enough fights there.

Steve raised his fist to knock, then noticed the little white note pinned on the inside of the door's window: _Back in 15 minutes_

Oh, he thought. Damn.

He checked his watch. A little after midday. Maybe the guy had gone to lunch. Steve figured he could go find himself a coffee and come back. Mind made up, he turned round and was about to walk back onto the busy street, when another man came into the alley and they almost ran into each other. He was smartly dressed in a suit with a red bow-tie, and had a coffee and a pastry bag balanced in one hand as he fumbled for keys with the other. He didn't start with alarm, neither did Steve, but they both moved back a step and placed their feet firmly apart as they assessed each other.

Instantly, Steve pegged this guy for a Vet, someone who'd been trained.

"Sorry about that," Steve said, aiming for friendly. "I forgot to use my indicators."

The other man didn't even blink at Steve's terrible humor, merely watching Steve with a quiet interest. He was very attractive, Steve noted: strong jawline, clean shaven, and a handsome face that wouldn't look out of place on the silver screen.

His dark hair was peppered with grey streaks; long and tied back from his face. Steve spotted a pencil tucked into his hair at the back, and a pair of glasses up there too. It was endearing, like the man had forgotten they were even there before dashing out for his lunch.

Steve thought the man to be in his thirties, perhaps, or a bit older. Darker hair often got greys quicker; not something Steve had to worry about being a blond.

"Are you James?" he asked, sticking his thumb over at the tailor's store. "I figured you were out to lunch."

The other man, James presumably, nodded his head once. He was still staring at Steve with an indecipherable look. Maybe he really needed his coffee, Steve thought.

"Shall I come back?" Steve smiled, amused. "Let you have your lunch first."

"Uh, no, no," James replied, voice soft with a note of something. An accent? Steve wasn't sure yet. "But if you want an alteration, you will have to wait a few days."

"Oh, Natasha sent me," Steve said. "She told me to say that I'm in the market for a new suit."

James' dark eyebrows flicked up in surprise. "Oh," he said, and jangled his keys. "In that case, you'd better come in."

The inside of the store was like a trip back in time. Steve looked around in wonder at all the old suits, hats, and various knick-knacks on display. There was stuff from his era, and stuff from eras long before.

Steve stopped in front of a cabinet displaying some delicate satin gloves and silk handkerchiefs, arranged in folds. There was intricate embroidery on each item. "You got some neat stuff," Steve said, turning to James with a smile.

James had closed the shop door and was busy setting down his coffee and pastry behind a small and very clean desk.

"You know, I can wait if you want your lunch first?" Steve tried to say, but James waved a hand.

"I had my sandwich, thank you. I was just being greedy."

Steve smiled. He liked James already; something about his quiet demeanour, and the accent, reminded him a little of Dr. Erskine.

"Are you German?" Steve asked.

James looked up at him, fumbling for the glasses on his head. "You think I'm German?" His accent had disappeared now.

Steve was impressed. James must've spent a long time either in America or with Americans to hide his accent so well. Or been trained to do it.

"It's my first guess," he said. "Am I wrong?"

James slowly slid his glasses onto his face, a long tendril of hair getting stuck behind one lens until James pushed it away, tucking it back up into his hair. "How many guesses do you want, young man?"

Steve almost snorted at the young man part, but he didn't want to be rude. "Three seems fair," he suggested.

James tilted his head. "Alright. And you? Must I guess who you are?"

"Natasha didn't tell you to expect me? Natasha Romanov?" Steve felt awkward now. "I thought she'd call ahead."

"No," James said, "Natasha has not called."

Something clicked for Steve with the accent when James said her name. "So," he said, "you're Russian too?"

James spread his hands and gave him a half smile in return. He was really very handsome.

"Maybe I am," was all he said. "What is your name?"

"Rogers. Steve Rogers." Steve offered his hand out. It seemed the polite thing to do.

James seemed a little taken aback at first, a brief look of panic flitting over his face, but then he took Steve's hand in a firm shake and inclined his head. "Please," he said, gesturing to the back wall. "Come through to my studio, Mr. Rogers."

Steve followed, wondering where James intended to take him. There was nothing but a tailor's dummy and a tiny changing area back here. James whisked the old curtain back, motioning for Steve to go in first.

Steve raised his eyebrows, curious, and stepped inside. James came in next, closing the curtain then attempting to turn around in the small space. He accidentally brushed up against Steve.

"Excuse me," he said softly, as they both shuffled out of each other's way.

Steve watched James reach out and place his right hand onto the mirror. A flurry of green lights came on around his handprint, like a scanner.

"Hm," Steve said, figuring there was more to this place than met the eye.

James smiled at him sidelong, removing his hand as the mirror slid away to reveal a secret entryway. He stepped through, and Steve followed him.

Now this was more like it, Steve thought. Bigger, clearly more modern, and with lots of tech. More lighting too.

"Neat," he said, looking around.

James hummed lightly as he went to a desk, opening up a plastic folder. "Alright, Mr. Rogers..."

"Steve, please."

"Steve," James amended, peering up at Steve over the rim of his glasses as Steve stood in front of him. "As Natasha has clearly told me nothing useful, you will have to tell me what your suit is for. So I know what to make for you."

"Sure thing," Steve said. "In fact, I drew up some ideas." He fished in his back pocket for the papers, and unfolded them on the desk.

James looked at them curiously, adjusting his glasses again. "You are quite the artist, Mr... Steve."

Steve smiled. "Not my first rodeo."

James hummed, glancing at Steve as he picked up a piece of paper to bring it close to his face. He scrutinised it a moment, then looked at Steve again. "This part?" He pointed to Steve's design.

Steve looked at where James was pointing, to the chest area of his design. "Yes," he said, and cleared his throat when James raised his eyebrows at him. "I believe it's called a titty window?"

James stared at him so long, unblinking, Steve was worried he was going to say no to making the suit. Then James blurted out, " _Excuse me?_ "

"Titty window," Steve said again. He noticed a rosy flush appear on both James' cheeks and he couldn't help flirt a little, saying, "I'm told it's flattering for those of us with a bigger bust."

James' mouth dropped open, and his plump pink lips looked awful pretty. James looked at the paper again, frowning at it.

"But... is this a stage costume?" he asked. "For fashion?"

"No, I'll need to fight in it," Steve told him. "I work with Natasha sometimes. So all the stuff she does, if you're familiar?"

James nodded, shaking his head and pushing his glasses up into his hair. "You want me to design you a suit where most of your chest and vital organs will be exposed? Have you lost your senses?"

Steve smirked. "Jury's out."

James looked at him closely, and Steve noticed his eyes were a pale blue. "I can't tell if you're joking," he murmured. "Is Natasha pranking me?"

Steve shook his head. "I promise, I'm very serious about this. I want a costume with the wow factor."

"Yes, wow indeed..." James' eyes flitted over Steve's form, probably picturing the costume on Steve already. Steve found he enjoyed that thought.

"And, just run this past me again," James said, "you intend to do _what_ in this costume?"

"Punch bad guys." Steve shrugged. "Naturally."

~~

Once James was alone again, having said goodbye to Steve Rogers and his out of this world body proportions, he sunk into his chair and sat there for several long moments staring into space.

James had met a lot of enhanced people in his time; heroes, vigilantes, even bad guys. They all needed a tailor who could give them a suit to match their abilities, and that's what James specialised in. James had met them all, measured them all, even flirted with a few.

But Steve Rogers.

James shook his head just thinking about that ridiculous shoulder to hip ratio. " _Bohze moi_ ," he murmured, shaking himself out of his daydreams. And all Steve had done was take off his jacket so James could get some basic measurements in his clothes. He was due back in three days for a first fitting, and that was going to involve _less clothes_ , and James really wasn't sure if he could deal.

With a huff, he found his cell phone and selected Natalia's contact. He put the phone to his ear as it rang, and she hardly ever answered calls so she must've been expecting his: she answered with a smile in her voice. "Yes, James?"

"Natalia." James sighed, and didn't know what else to say.

"I take it you met Steve?" she said. "How did it go?"

James opened his mouth, trying to form words. "What... how... you..."

She started laughing. "Hah! Oh, my God, I'm so good at this. I should open up a side business."

"What?" James frowned. "What are you talking about?"

"As a matchmaker," she said smugly. "You know I saw an advert called Scottish Widows and it turned out to be a _bank?_ I could totally steal their name. Russian Widows. What do you think? Too on the nose?"

"Natalia," James sighed, and switched to Russian to say, "Who is he! Why did you send him! Oh, God, his shoulders!"

"Wait, you don't recognise him?" Natalia asked, sounding surprised.

"No?" James' mind was so full of Steve's sheer size and bulging muscles, and the daunting task that lay ahead of him, not much else could fit in his head right now. "Should I recognise him?" he asked.

Natalia was quiet a moment, then replied casually, "Nope, not really. I mean you could ask him about the promotional movies he did once..." She laughed away from the phone for a moment, clearly finding this very amusing. "Or don't," she said. "He gets shy about his short lived acting career."

James snorted. "He did not seem shy to me."

"Well, that's good," she replied. "I'm happy to hear that. Maybe you can make a friend. Two moody old men, doing whatever moody old men do."

James rolled his eyes. "First, how dare you. Second, he isn't old, Natalia, he's clearly in his twenties."

"I can't believe you used to gather Intel," Natalia scolded. "Try have a proper conversation with him next time, James. You might learn something."

"What does that mean?" he asked, but she'd already ended the call. James sighed lightly and tossed his phone onto the desk.

God help him.

Maybe he could book in one of his assistants to take Steve's measurements, and ensure James didn't drool all over himself and Steve in the process. That would be the safe solution, he supposed.

James folded his arms and tapped his left hand on his chin; it was his bionic arm, disguised with a flesh covering on the hand. Most people never spotted it, and that was the idea: James needed to be forgettable and not draw attention.

The exact opposite of what this Steve Rogers seemed to be, especially in the costume he wanted James to design for him.

James picked up the piece of paper again to look at it. The drawing was wonderful, very artistic; showing a muscular figure in a tight fitting costume with a cape of all things, and a floor to ceiling V-cut on the chest.

James pressed his lips into a flat line, thinking about it. He'd never run away from a challenge before...

Hell with it, he'd measure Steve himself. How hard could it be?


	2. Two

Over the next couple days, James quickly finished his initial designs.

First he worked in regular materials, just a mix of cotton and spandex for the mock-up suits. No point using expensive kevlar until they had a design agreed upon.

As he sat at his sewing machine with the suits, mind drifting to Steve's enormous shoulders, James accidentally sewed way too much and had to stop and unpick his work.

How terribly unprofessional.

He cursed under his breath in Russian, annoyed with himself. Could he do this? Or was he going to get distracted? He'd already behaved like a fool when Steve had merely offered his hand to shake, and James had gone into full blushing mode.

Honestly. He rubbed a hand up his tired face, shoving his glasses off in the process. "Ugh," he grumbled. "Why."

And because he'd been so taken with Steve, and so shocked by Steve's suit request, James couldn't remember if Steve had been flirting _with_ him, or if Steve was naturally a flirty guy. Maybe he was one of those straight but friendly men, who knew.

James kept replaying everything in his mind, but over analysing it didn't help. He'd just have to wait until he saw Steve again, and pay more attention.

" _Weakness_ ," he muttered to himself in Russian, smiling wryly at how his old Soviet tutors would be rolling in their graves at how _weak_ he'd become, how _human_.

Oh, well, James thought. There were worse things to be than human.

Steve arrived bright and early for his fitting appointment, and he'd even brought coffee.

"Oh, how lovely," James commented, his heart swelling at the kind gesture. Though he certainly didn't need the caffeine today, his pulse was quick enough thanks to Steve and his mega-watt smile.

"I got you the Americano," Steve said. "Hope you like it."

"Yes, that will do nicely." James held his coffee in one hand while he fiddled with his glasses. "Thank you."

Steve beamed. "No problem."

"You're not having coffee?" James asked.

"Caffeine doesn't affect me," Steve said, casual as anything.

"Ah," James said, and wondered if Steve had special abilities. He looked up into Steve's smiling face, lost in his baby blue eyes for a moment before he remembered himself and what they were supposed to be doing. "Um, shall we?"

"Sure."

James took Steve through to the workshop, with its bright overhead lights. He'd already arranged the fitting area at the back, where a small podium stood in front of three large mirrors. The changing room was nearby, along with a workbench for James and a couple of tailor's dummies already wearing the mock-up suits.

James set his coffee down onto the workbench, and gestured at the dummies. "As I explained already, these are mock-ups to start with. Make sure I have your correct measurements before we proceed."

Steve stood in front of the dummies, looking at the costumes. One had a cape on and Steve grinned as he reached out to touch it, flapping the material back and forth in his hand.

"We won't use this material, obviously," James told him. "At the moment they don't look very dramatic, but..." He trailed off as Steve pointed at the costumes. "Yes?"

"Where's the titty window?" Steve asked.

"Um, allow me..." James went to squeeze past Steve and pulled a zipper on the dummy's front, unzipping the costume like a catsuit. "Here."

"Hmm," Steve said, not sounding convinced. "I kind of wanted it on display all the time."

James stared at him in bewilderment. "Why?"

"Well, James," Steve said, then grinned. "I can call you James, right? To be honest with you, I started out my career in tights and hotpants. It wasn't a great costume. Then I took a side-step into a more practical costume, but it was thick and covered literally _all_ of me. Only my chin and eyes were on display."

Steve paused, so James nodded to show he was listening. "That does sound practical," he mentioned.

"It suited the time period," Steve chuckled. "Then I get back in the game and SHIELD put me in tights again. Well, you know what? This time, I want something _different_ ," Steve said with passion. "Something _sexy_."

James managed to bite down on a little whimper. He adjusted his glasses and hoped Steve didn't notice him blushing. "Alright," he agreed. "Whatever you want, Steve. But please try one on first, so I may check the size. We will make adjustments from there."

"Great." Steve smiled brightly, and took one costume with him to the changing room.

James had a few moments by himself to calm down and try get his attraction to Steve under control. He rolled up his shirt sleeves neatly, then used a folder on the desk to fan his face.

_You can do this, James,_ he told himself. _You used to be a world renowned spy, a feared assassin. You can handle a handsome American boy._

James exhaled quietly, and focused on arming himself with the tools of his trade: he secured a little pin cushion stuck with pins to his wrist, draped the tape measure around his shoulders, and had his marker pen, notepad and pencil ready in his vest pocket.

Steve took his time getting changed. James tapped his fingers on the bench, anxious to get started.

"Are you alright, Steve?" he called.

"Almost ready," Steve called back. "This fabric is cold."

"It will warm up," James told him, smiling. "You're the one who wants a gap in your suit. It will be cold at night."

"I run hot," Steve announced, whisking the curtain back. James looked round to see Steve standing there in the suit, hands on his hips. "What do you think?" Steve grinned. "I don't think I'll be intimidating any bad guys in these pale pyjamas."

The material was magnolia, because it was an easier color to adjust and sew.

"I promise you," James told him, "only I will ever see this mock-up." He took a fortifying breath and went to join Steve. "If you please," he said, indicating the podium.

Steve got up there, turning side to side to check himself out in the mirror. He seemed perfectly at ease with himself, which turned James into all thumbs.

Not great for a tailor.

James cleared his throat. "How is it, Steve?"

"Feels a little loose on the bottom half," Steve said, moving the cape aside so he could check out his ass in the mirror.

Heaven help James, it was a very nice ass. The thighs were nice too. "Um," he managed, as he stumbled up onto the podium with Steve. He wasn't usually so clumsy. "I, um, will do alterations in a moment. First, how is the cape? The length?"

"Yeah, length is good." Steve nodded. "I'll be happier when it's not all white."

"Mm-hm. Then let's take it away for now." James reached up and carefully removed the temporary cape. He folded it and took it to the workbench.

Now he had to go fix the material around Steve's ass and hips. Usually this was his favorite part of tailoring, but today he was nervous as hell. James picked up the small cushion he used for kneeling on, schooled his features and turned back to Steve.

"Now, then," he said, having to look at Steve's figure and pay attention to the cut. "Yes, I see. We can take it in a little here." He threw down his cushion and got on one knee, adjusting his glasses on his nose.

James pinched the material of Steve's suit in his thumb and forefinger, deciding how much to take in. He pinned a section all down Steve's outer thigh, making the material skintight, all the while trying to ignore the fact that he was so, so close to Steve.

He pinned the material on Steve's other thigh, adjusting the suit in the mirror before checking the rest of the legs. "I presume you want decent boots," James said, finishing his pinning. "There is a standard I order and add covers to. Practically every person in a super suit in New York state has the same boots."

"Yeah, sounds good," Steve said. He'd been very patient standing still. When James looked up to check, he saw that Steve was looking down at him with a lopsided smirk.

James looked away, feeling shy, and he stumbled back up to his feet. "Raise your arms for me," he asked. "Let's check the overall movement."

Now came the tricky part for this costume, especially with such a large gap in the front. The same gap showing pale skin, curved pectoral muscles and rippling abs for days.

James caught his glasses before they slipped down his nose, pushing them back up as he focused on the material of the suit, how it moved as Steve did. He tried very hard to send all thoughts of Steve's incredible size and proportions to the back of his mind, and focus on his work.

"Can I put a strap here?" James gestured across his own sternum. "This suit will fall off your shoulders without something holding it together."

Steve chuckled at that. "Maybe? I really wanted a bare section. Is that achievable?"

"For fashion, yes," James told him. "For fighting? No. And with a heavier cape pulling on the shoulders, there must be something to hold the front in place. I can put a panel of mesh in there?"

"I see what you mean," Steve conceded. "What's mesh exactly? Isn't it black?"

"No, I have all sorts," James said. "One moment..." He looked in the workbench drawers for his mesh sample book, then took it back to Steve. "Put your hand behind the samples to see what they look like."

Steve examined the samples with interest, feeling them and looking closely. "So it could still look nude?" he asked. "If I picked one of these shades."

"Yes." James glanced at Steve's chest, at his enormous pecs peeping through the gap. James could've stared all day, but he politely averted his eyes. "It will seem nude, and only have a faint shimmer from certain angles. Shall I make a sample now?"

"Mmmm," Steve hummed, still looking at the sample. "I guess we could. I'm still pretty attached to the original concept."

"Mesh panel, or a strap across the front," James told him. "You can choose, but it must be one of these, Steve."

Steve pursed his lips in thought, and they were very nice lips; James had already noticed how pink they were, how kissable. James averted his eyes again, looked at the sample book instead.

"Alright," Steve agreed. "Can we try both?"

"Yes, of course." James took the sample book and went to find the material Steve had chosen. He had a drawer of off-cuts that would do for a sample panel.

Next he cut off a section of wide elastic, which would be the strap. He went back to Steve and got to work. First the mesh panel, cut into a V-shape to match the gap in the suit. James pinned it in quickly, his fingers brushing against Steve's bare skin as he worked. He apologised a couple times, but Steve remained perfectly still and merely smiled back.

"Do what you gotta do," he said. "I'm used to being fitted out."

James nodded, though he was in fear of his glasses steaming up. They were sliding down his nose again, so James decided to push them off his face and up into his hair.

Steve hadn't been joking before when he'd said he ran hot: James felt the heat radiating from his skin, very warm to the touch. He almost mentioned it, just small talk, but he felt shyer than he normally did.

Steve was simply very attractive, not only physically but there was something about him that seemed gentle and kind. A rare quality among large muscle men or enhanced men, James had come to discover over the years: either enhanced men were the quiet, broody type that rarely spoke, or they were brash and annoying.

Steve was neither; he was polite, sweet, and a little sassy. A perfect combination. James knew he had a crush looming, and he kept telling himself it was pointless because Steve was more than likely not interested in him.

"You know," Steve said quietly, making James look up in surprise. They were very close, and Steve smiled at him. "I thought you'd ask me more questions," he said.

James blinked at him, gazing into Steve's blue eyes. "Most of my clients prefer less questions," he replied. "And, well. The less I know is also better."

"Ah." Steve's smile widened, amused. "Plausible deniability?"

"Something like that." James finished pinning the mesh, and he stepped off the podium, managing not to trip over this time. "See how you like this."

Steve looked in the mirror, turning and watching the mesh reflect the light ever so subtly. "Hmm," he hummed dubiously.

James knew right then that the mesh would not be Steve's choice, but he'd give him a moment to think about it.

As he'd suspected, Steve turned to James with an apologetic wince. "Sorry, James. I'm not a fan."

"That's alright," James told him, stepping back onto the podium. He quickly removed the mesh, replacing the pins into the pin cushion on his wrist. He tossed the mesh away. "So, this leaves a strap?"

Steve grinned. "Let's try it."

James fixed the piece of elastic across the gap in the suit, so it sat high on Steve's collarbone. "Let's try it with the cape," he suggested, and went to fetch the cape, plus two large buttons. He reattached the cape on Steve's shoulders, and pinned the buttons on either side of the strap for decoration. This would probably work just fine, James thought, if Steve approved of it.

"Can I ask you something?" Steve said.

James nodded.

"You don't... know my history?" Steve asked, sounding hesitant. "My background?"

James looked up at him, trying to read the expression on Steve's face. "Should I?" he replied.

Steve gave him a small smile in return. "No. I was just kind of surprised is all."

"I don't need to know you to know you're somewhat of a troublemaker, Mr. Rogers," James told him, stepping down from the podium.

Steve laughed, a dirty little chuckle. "Now what makes you say that?"

James couldn't help a smile. "I've been around, and I know trouble when I see it," he replied. "While we're on that subject, you will be expected to sign a disclaimer before receiving the final suit. So you can't sue me for anything."

"Why would I sue you?" Steve said, turning side to side as he looked in the mirror again. "I've never sued anyone. I don't even have a lawyer."

Now that gave James pause. "How can you not have a lawyer? You're either very lucky or very foolish."

Steve gave him a shrug. "I'd never have been able to afford one on my own, and later SHIELD took care of everything."

"Hm." James watched Steve admiring himself in the mirror. Things were starting to make sense now. "Are you still with SHIELD?"

Steve tilted his head and made a considering sound.

Just as James had thought. Steve had probably been a company man for most of his career and this was his first step into _self employment_ , Otherwise known as being a vigilante.

"So, Steve," James said, going to a drawer at his desk. "I take it you'll be wanting a mask with this costume? To protect your identity? Masks have come back in fashion lately."

"Actually, that's a good idea," Steve agreed.

James took out a folder of paper masks: they were templates, and James selected the classic domino style mask first. (It was his favorite, and reminded him of the old days when he'd been in the game.)

He handed the mask up to Steve so he could try it on, pulling the elastic band over his head. "I know a good lawyer," he said, watching Steve try on the mask. "He's also... how shall we say? He is partial to suits. I'll give you his card."

"Thanks." Steve grinned at him. "I appreciate that."

James smiled, pleased. He liked Steve, which was dangerous for James because he knew how risky the game was and how much danger vigilantes faced on their own.

Even more risky wearing a costume like this with a massive hole in it, James thought. Unless Steve was himself bulletproof, he'd run into some trouble.

Still. The customer was always right.

Steve was busy admiring his reflection, and James felt they'd successfully completed the first fitting. "You are happy with this?" he asked, and received a bright smile in response.

"I'll be happy when it isn't white," Steve said.

"Yes, yes," James replied. "In time. Now let me remove the cape and you can go take the suit off carefully, and mind the pins."

James took the cape while Steve went off to get changed. There were still some details to finalise, and normally he would take a cash deposit now but as Natalia had sent Steve in, James didn't mind waiting for payment at the end.

Steve came out dressed in his jeans and shirt again, carrying the suit he'd just had on. When James took it from him, it was still warm.

James cleared his throat and indicated to the catalogue and form to fill in on the bench. "Just some final details, please."

"Wow, I didn't think anyone used paper and pens anymore," Steve joked, flicking through the catalogue.

"A paper trail is easier to dispose of," James explained, putting his glasses back on. "I destroy all records once your purchase is complete."

"Fair." Steve flipped through the pages, then began filling out the form. He selected the types of boots, gloves, belt, and other accessories he wanted with the costume, then any tech to be included.

The prices were listed by each item, but Steve didn't seem to be concerned about cost. Lucky for him, James thought, as Steve would need all the assistance he could get going out in a suit like that. Bad guys wouldn't know what to make of him.

Steve picked out the color palette, sticking to his original design of navy blue and bright yellow. James hadn't sewn a yellow costume in a while. Most suits he made were dark colors these days. All flair from the game had faded out in the early '00s, which was a pity.

"Shall I pay you now?" Steve asked.

"After is fine," James said. "I will order the materials and begin work on your suit when they come in. It will be two to three weeks before the next fitting." He looked at Steve seriously over the rim of his glasses. "I trust you can wait that long?"

Steve grinned. "Sure, that's fine. I'll leave you my number?"

"Yes, please."

Steve wrote down his number, a cell phone, and the order was complete. James thanked him and took him back into the front store. He remembered to get one of Matt Murdock's business cards for Steve on his way out.

"Oh, great." Steve pocketed the card. "Thanks, James. I can't wait to see the suit."

James smiled at him. "I will call. Please take care of yourself, Steve."

This seemed to amuse Steve. "I promise I'll stay safe," he said, then left with a smile and a little wave.

James exhaled in the quiet of the store, and now he was alone he had all the time in the world to think about Steve's measurements. Professionally speaking, of course.

James went back to his workshop and set the mock-up suit onto the dummy with its cape, so he could visualise what he would create.

As James sat on his stool, chewing his lip in thought, he realised he'd completely forgotten to ask Steve about the movies he'd been in, the ones Natalia had mentioned. How forgetful of him.

Curious, James got out his phone and opened the browser.

He didn't normally look up his clients, because he hadn't been joking when he'd said the less he knew the better. But he was interested in Steve. James typed in _Steve Rogers_ and _movies_ to Google, and looked at the results.

Well, that couldn't be right, he thought, frowning at the results page. He scrolled through the first dozen headers, mostly about the wartime hero Captain America.

Maybe Steve had played him in a movie. That seemed likely, now James thought of it: he had a vague recollection from American history books of Captain America himself being a blond hunk.

James selected the image results and looked at the pictures that came up. He spotted Steve instantly, in some black and white images and wearing a tactical uniform with a helmet.

James kept scrolling, wondering why most of the photos were in black and white. He saw a video of archive footage from World War II, showing Captain America addressing Allied troops, so he clicked on that to watch.

That was Steve's voice.

_Oh._

Slowly it dawned on James what this meant. He put down his phone for a moment to digest it and thought, no, surely he'd been mistaken. He picked up his phone again and did another search.

Either the Steve he'd met was a perfect reincarnation of the wartime hero, or he was indeed the same Captain America.

James felt very silly for not knowing. He almost felt like calling Natalia and giving her a piece of his mind, but he felt so embarrassed he couldn't do it. Plus, she would only tease him about it. James decided he'd resort to old spy tactics and just pretend he'd known all along.

As for Steve, though, James definitely had questions now. Namely, why had Captain America resurfaced now, and what did he intend to do with such an impractical vigilante costume?


	3. Three

Two and a half weeks later, Steve was excited to return to the tailor's store and see his new suit.

Also, he was excited to see James again: it'd been hard to stop thinking about the quiet older man and his soft voice with the hint of Russian to it. Steve had to admit, he was very taken with James.

Steve also had a hunch that James was into guys, if his pretty blushes each time they'd met were anything to go by. Plus the fact he was a tailor and exceptionally well dressed; not that Steve wanted to stereotype anyone, but all signs pointed to at least a _little_ bit gay.

He hoped.

Steve had thought it over the last couple weeks and he'd decided he'd take the plunge. He'd just ask.

What did he have to lose? He could live freely now, and ask out whoever he wanted to ask out.

This was partly the reason he'd decided on such an ostentatious costume for his new vigilante gig: it wasn't _illegal_ anymore to be gay or dress however he wanted, in New York anyway.

And Steve wanted to look like the biggest gay on the block, but a badass at the same time. No more stupid tights for him. He was going to put his best assets forward. Namely, his spectacular chest.

James called on Wednesday to let Steve know that his costume was ready and he could come by on Thursday afternoon for a fitting.

Steve was near bursting at the seams with joy when he went along to the tailor's store on Thursday, bang on time for his appointment.

He knocked at the door, smiling happily when James opened it. "Good afternoon," he greeted.

James smiled back at him, and there seemed to be something different about his smile this time, like he _knew_ something.

Had he guessed Steve was going to ask him out? Was that it?

"Steve," he greeted. "Please come in."

James took him straight through to the private workshop. Steve had never seen anyone else in the store, and wondered if James ever had help or if he worked alone. Surely he had other customers; the price Steve was paying for his new suit seemed astronomical to him.

Inflation was wild.

"How's business?" Steve asked, fishing a little.

James was setting his glasses onto his nose, and looked back at Steve with an amused smile. "Business is good. Thank you."

He was wearing another tailored suit today, much like he had each time before: dark colors with iridescent details and accents, clearly expensive material. He didn't have the jacket on, but his shirt and vest with a buckle at the back looked very sharp.

Steve wondered if James had made it, or if he only specialised in kevlar suits. He'd have to ask some time.

"So, your suit is good, I think," James said, and he sounded pleased. "Let's go take a look at it."

Steve grinned, eyes darting around the workshop to find his suit. He actually spotted another suit first, over at a different workbench. Steve wondered who the other customer was, but the suit was dark and had no discernible patterns on it.

Over in the corner, Steve saw his own suit on a mannequin, in his chosen colors of dark navy blue with sunflower yellow accents. "Oh, wow," he said, blown away by the suit and its cape.

Steve walked up to it to take a closer look. The dark material was a kevlar mix, James had already explained all that at the first fitting: it would be light to wear but protective too. The cape was dark on the back but bright yellow underneath. There was sturdy dark boots with subtle yellow accents on them, and bright yellow gloves reinforced with armored plating.

But the best bit, Steve's favorite, was the big V-shape dip in the chest, with only one strap holding it together and topped off with two yellow discs.

"You approve?" James asked.

"Oh, yes," Steve said. "This is great." He looked at the mannequin's head where the sculpted domino mask was set in place. "Actually, I meant to ask how those things stay on."

James chuckled lightly. "Well, you're about to find out. Just don't try to rip it off in a hurry, hm?"

Steve laughed. "I won't."

Now it was time to try on the suit. James removed it from the mannequin, showing Steve how to unclasp the strap at the front.

"Put the suit on first," James instructed, "then come back here and we will see how it fits."

"Can't wait," Steve said, and headed straight into the changing cubicle. He threw off his civilian clothes, everything but his socks and underwear, then stepped into the new suit.

Steve was no stranger to wriggling around with armored suits, shimmying to get them on. In fact, he was pretty fast at it now, and he got the suit up his legs and onto his hips quickly.

The fit was amazing, and Steve couldn't wait to see it in the mirror. His ass and thighs were snug inside the tight fit of the suit. Now for the arms: Steve slipped them on one by one, tugging the suit up onto his shoulders.

It was a little heavy with the cape, something new to Steve. But, dammit, he'd seen Thor's cape and been so jealous. He wanted a cape too.

Steve persevered, pulling the sleeves up his arms.

"Everything alright?" James' voice asked from outside the cubicle.

"Yeah!" Steve called back. "Almost there." He wrestled with the sleeves a bit more, but once it was all in place it fit like a glove. Steve felt around on his chest, looking down as he tried to fasten the strap shoulder to shoulder.

It took a couple tries, but he got it. He was desperate to see himself in the mirror now.

He exited the cubicle and bounded up onto the podium, cape swishing around him. His reflection looked _so good_. The deep V-cut showed off his pecs and his abs, and the yellow underside of the cape complimented his blond hair.

Steve loved everything about his new costume. He even felt a little choked up.

"Not too tight?" James asked, coming to take a look.

"Feels fine," Steve replied. "More than fine. You did a stand up job."

"Well, thank you." James smiled, ducking his head. "Let's have a check, hm? Lift your arms up for me?"

Steve did as James asked, and let the tailor come in close to inspect the suit. He made a few hums and 'Aha's as he looked Steve over.

"And the cape?" he asked, going around the back. "Too long, too heavy?"

"I... don't have a lot of experience with capes," Steve admitted. "It seems fine?"

"Aesthetically, yes," James murmured. "Well, let's put on the rest and you can run around my workshop to test it out. See if you don't trip over on the cape."

Oh, God, Steve hoped he wouldn't trip on the cape. That would be embarrassing.

James brought him the rest of the costume piece by piece: first the boots, then the gloves and utility belt. Steve put them on, and James explained the additional functions and how to access them.

This would be Steve's first time fighting without a shield, as he'd left his shield firmly lodged in Director Fury's office wall, where Steve had thrown it at their last meeting and told Fury he was quitting SHIELD for good.

But it was fine, he could fight without a shield. The gloves were reinforced so he could deflect blows, and Steve would just have to get used to it.

Finally James brought over the mask, told Steve to remain still while he placed it onto Steve's face.

"It's a combination of adhesive and a small magnetic field within the mask," he explained, stepping back. "Please take care removing it; just lift up the corner and gently peel away. Yes?"

Steve smiled. "Understood." He looked over at the mirror, seeing himself in his full suit with the mask for the first time. He felt at a loss for words.

"Steve?" James seemed concerned. "Everything alright?"

Steve managed a nod.

"Are you sure?" James asked.

"Yeah." Steve smiled at his reflection, feeling genuinely happy and carefree for the first time he could remember. He glanced at James, still smiling. "Everything's great."

James watched him closely, and he still seemed concerned but he nodded at Steve. "When you are ready, if you would take a turn about the room, see how the suit feels? There is a training post you may attack if you wish. Please don't damage my workbenches, though."

Steve grinned. "No problem."

Steve did indeed take a turn about the room, as James had put it.

He started first with a walk, getting a feel for his new suit, then he decided to run, and he loved the feel of the cape swishing around him.

James watched him curiously from his workbench, glasses perched on his nose and his chin in his hand. Steve thought he saw a small smile there, only when James thought Steve wasn't looking.

The suit felt fine, nothing Steve hadn't dealt with before. The crotch still rode up a bit, but they all did that. His nipples were chafing way less in this suit, so Steve counted that as another design win for him, even if his tits did bounce a bit more without the extra support.

He bounded over to the training post: padded, with sticks protruding up and down it. Steve started fighting it as if it were an opponent, testing out his armored gloves.

Everything was going well, until Steve turned and noticed his cape getting caught on the lower sticks until he tugged it free.

He'd have to get used to the cape, but Steve was nothing if not determined. He tried the move a few more times, trying to accommodate for the movement of the cape.

James approached from the side, watching Steve's moves for a few moments. "Once you're used to the cape," he said, as Steve paused, "the advantage of having a cape means you can use it as a shield. Say, if somebody shot at you or used a flamethrower. This cape is fireproof, and also bullet resistant."

"Not bulletproof?" Steve chuckled.

"No, your suit is bulletproof." James eyed Steve's chest. "Apart from your exposed area, of course. Your cape, it is resistant to a lot of things. You can take shelter in it for a short time, or remove it to throw at your opponents and surprise them."

"Okay," Steve said, committing the information to memory. "Actually, nobody's used a flamethrower on me since... Well, for a very long time."

James raised one eyebrow at him. "Be prepared for all eventualities." Steve found himself nodding. "And, Steve, for heaven's sake," James pleaded, "be careful."

Steve grinned in response. "Where's the fun in that?"

Fitting done, suit purchased and disclaimers signed, James packed the suit and its accessories all up in a case and handed it over.

He also gave Steve a print out, which Steve saw was a price list detailing the cost of mending suits. He suppressed a laugh. "So, you're fully expecting me to wreck the suit, aren't you?"

James shrugged it off, but Steve saw the corners of his mouth turning up. He was trying not to smile.

"Please come back if you have any problems with the suit," he told Steve, leading him out of the workroom. "I would be happy to help you, maybe add a tearaway panel to your chest for the winter months? Whatever you need."

Steve chuckled under his breath. "Alright, thank you."

They were back in the front of the store, quiet and less bright. It felt cosy in here, with the weight of history everywhere. Steve would've loved to look around more, stay and ask James a whole truck load of questions about him and his life, but he didn't want to overstay his welcome.

Steve clutched his case in one hand, and offered out the other to James. "Thank you for indulging me."

James clasped his hand, patting his left hand on top of Steve's as he smiled at him. "The pleasure was all mine, Steve."

He didn't seem as shy now, Steve was surprised to see. He smiled back, and when James released his hand he went to get the door for him.

Steve normally would've walked straight out, too scared to ask for more, but he'd already made up his mind to be brave, so...

"Say," he said, turning to James on the doorstep, "would you want to get dinner with me sometime? Or coffee? Whichever is more suitable? If... if you want," he added, trailing off as he watched James' reaction. James' pale blue eyes were wide in surprise, and his plump lips parted.

"Um, I mean," Steve went on, "you don't have to..."

James held up his hand, waved it a little. "Just so I understand, would dinner be business or pleasure?"

"Oh, pleasure," Steve blurted. "I mean, a date. Not business. Sorry, I should've said that."

"I would be happy to have dinner with you, Steve," James said.

"Really?" Steve said in surprise, then broke into a smile. "Great! How about tomorrow night? Oh, wait." He winced as he remembered his plans. "I have a thing tomorrow night. Saturday night?"

James gave him a knowing smile. "Is Friday night your suit's first outing?"

Oh, shit, he'd guessed. Steve laughed to hide his surprise. "Uh, maybe? Look, I can rearrange if it you want?"

James waved away his concern. "No, no. Saturday is alright. If you're still alive, Steve, we can get dinner at Alesandro's, it's four blocks left from here. Seven PM, don't be late."

Steve nodded, thrilled he had a date. "I promise I'll be there."


	4. Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just wanted to share some panels from the comics that show Steve canonically tripping over his own cape multiple times...

~~

That same night, Steve put on his suit at home by himself.

He was so excited, he couldn't just stay indoors. He climbed out his window and up the fire escape, headed to the roof.

There, Steve stood on the ledge, hands on his hips and cape billowing out in the wind behind him as he looked around the dazzling lights of New York City.

Never in a million years had Steve dreamed he'd be back home, with the body and powers science and Dr. Erskine had given him, ready to defend his city against injustice.

Now he could finally get to work.

He'd been practising lately, at night, leaping from rooftop to rooftop. Granted his own temporary costume of all black sweats had looked more like a low rent burglar than a show-stopping vigilante, but now Steve had the costume he couldn't wait to start showing it off.

He took a run up and leapt over to the next building.

Steve sailed through the air, wind whipping his cape up behind him. He landed safely on the other roof top, dropping into a roll out of habit. Unfortunately his cape tangled on his foot when he tried to stand up and he ended up tripping over, falling onto his front with a muffled grunt.

Clearly, a cape would take some getting used to.

That was why Steve wanted to practice tonight, as Friday night he had something important planned.

The next night, Steve donned his costume again, and he headed down to the docks.

There was some shady business going down, and tonight was supposed to be a big delivery of arms and drugs that Steve intended to intercept.

As far as he knew it was an organised gang, most likely mafia owned. Steve had heard a few different languages being spoken on his previous stakeouts at their warehouse on the dock, and the most frequently used language was Russian.

Steve waited in the shadows, his navy suit dark enough to go undetected. There was at least a dozen armed men outside, and more inside the warehouse.

After forty minutes waiting, a large truck finally came into view. Which was great because Steve was freezing his tits off, and he wanted to kick some ass.

The men outside had clearly been expecting the truck, as they guided it into the open warehouse door, guarding it from all angles.

Steve had already discovered a side door around the other side of the warehouse, so he quietly slipped in there.

Once the truck was inside, the men shut the main warehouse door. The truck's rear end was opened up, and the men began the process of unloading all the crates inside.

Steve watched from behind an empty crate nearby, waiting. He needed it to be a payload, or it wasn't worth busting them. When some of the men opened up the first crate with crowbars to inspect it, Steve watched too. One of them delved inside and pulled out an automatic rifle.

Bingo. This was the payload.

Steve didn't want those arms on his city's streets, and especially not in the hands of these guys. He crept quietly across the floor and behind a larger stack of empty crates. He had to cause a diversion before he jumped in to fight, as they outnumbered him and he needed the element of surprise.

Steve pushed at the crates, using all his super strength to shove the tall stack over. They creaked and rocked, slowly tipping. The men yelled in Russian, some managing to dive out the way before the crates all fell onto the floor and on top of them.

Steve charged in while they were scattered and distracted. He punched and kicked at whoever was in his path, using all of his training to mow through the men as quickly as he could.

The ones still standing were yelling, and went to open fire with their guns. Steve picked up an empty grate with a grunt and threw it across the room, taking out four men at once like pins in a bowling alley.

The remaining two men ran, yelling as they went.

Steve wasn't going to chase them until he'd called in this shipment. The sooner it was picked up, the better.

Unfortunately the warehouse main door opened again, revealing a dozen more mafia guys waiting there, guns drawn and aimed at Steve.

"Shit," Steve breathed, barely having time to throw his cape around him as the bullets started flying. He ducked for cover behind one of the crate shipments, and hoped to God there wasn't any explosives in there.

He'd been surprised, and now he was caught, pinned with no escape route as they rained down fire on him.

If the men got close enough, Steve figured he could kick the crates into them, try to knock a few of them down.

Strangely, the gunfire paused and Steve heard the unmistakable shot of a rifle being fired, echoing through the warehouse. More yelling in Russian followed, and the gunfire became erratic. Steve dared to peer around the crate, and saw the mafia guys being picked off one by one.

Steve froze at the realisation: _sniper._

Someone else was in the warehouse. He looked up at the metal rafters, but it was too dark to see. Well, Steve had to hope whoever it was up there was on his side.

The mafia had started firing up into the ceiling, and Steve didn't want them to hit his possible ally. He grabbed what was left of an empty crate, a spiky panel of wood, and flung it across the warehouse. It whipped through the air and knocked down two men at once.

Steve had to smile at himself: he couldn't help throwing things. Maybe he missed his shield after all.

The sniper quickly took out the remaining men, then all was quiet.

Steve came out into the open with his hands up. "Who's there?" he asked.

Some quiet clangs overheard was all that answered, suggesting movement above. Steve's enhanced hearing picked out the familiar sound of a zipline, the same type that Natasha and Clint used.

Steve watched as out of the shadows a figure dropped down onto the floor: they wore an all black catsuit with a rifle strapped to their back, and long dark hair obscuring their face.

For a second Steve thought it was Natasha, the Black Widow, as this person landed exactly like she did. But they were bigger than Natasha, and their left hand glinted with silver.

When they flipped their hair back and grinned up at Steve, he saw it was James, wearing a black domino mask over his eyes.

"Uh, hey," Steve said, pleasantly surprised. "Fancy bumping into you here."

James got to his feet and unhooked the line from his belt. Steve had the opportunity to look him up and down, admiring the form fitting catsuit and the various knives and guns strapped to his thighs and belt.

"I told myself," James said, sounding amused, "that surely nobody would be foolish enough to take on the entire Russian mafia on their own. But, here you are."

Steve laughed, rubbing a hand on the back of his neck. "I had 'em on the ropes."

"Clearly." James folded his arms as he looked at Steve. "So, if you've quite finished here? I have a thermos full of coffee that should still be warm. Want to join me?"

Steve wouldn't say no to that offer. "Lead the way!"

They climbed up to the roof outside, and over to the neighboring warehouse.

Steve called in the bust on an anonymous tip-line, while James muttered that cops were no better than mafia as he poured out two small cups of coffee.

"Here," he said, handing one to Steve. "Your health." He made a toast before putting the cup to his lips, so Steve did the same.

"Cheers," he said, and drank the coffee. He sat next to James on the ledge, both of them dangling their feet over the side as they looked out at the water and the night sky.

"Well, this is a fun first date," Steve commented.

James laughed lightly. "I had to make sure you were still alive for dinner tomorrow night."

Steve laughed at that. "I feel flattered you came to check up on me."

"Hmm," was all James said, so Steve decided to probe a little more.

"Can we talk about this, though?" Steve gestured at James' outfit. "Very nice, by the way. You look like a femme fatale from the movies."

James shook his head as he smiled. "I told you I've been around, Steve."

"Yeah, but I assumed you meant tailoring," Steve replied. "An Army Vet, maybe. But you're different. Did you work with Natasha?"

James exhaled a little sigh. "I trained Natalia, Steve. I'm older than I look."

"So am I," Steve replied, then thought about James' answer. "Does that mean... you worked for the Soviets?"

James inclined his head. "Yes, and no. Yes, I worked for the Soviets. Did I have free will or choice in the matter? No. Not until I escaped." He sighed again. "It's complicated. My past is not all bright and shiny, it's steeped in secrets and shadows."

"I'm sorry, James." Steve sighed also. "And I have something of a chequered past myself. I got sold on the American dream, but I found out recently that my government has done some shady stuff right under my nose. I'm still trying to process it all."

James nodded, silent for a long moment. "I'm sorry, too, Steve," he said at length. "Governments aren't to be trusted."

"Yeah. This is why I figured, hey, why not go it alone?" Steve joked. "And have a kickass costume that represents me for a change. Not the government, and not SHIELD. Just _me_."

James smiled at him. "You do look very nice."

"Thank you, so do you."

James looked down, seeming bashful. His dark hair with its pretty peppered streaks fell across his face. "I thought I was so much older than you at first, but technically you are only thirty years older than me."

Steve quickly did the math. "You were born in forty-five? Really?"

James nodded.

"But... you don't look it," Steve said, staring at James' face.

"Don't tell anybody my secret." James chuckled. "I was given what was called the infinity serum. It slows down the ageing process considerably."

"I see," Steve said, marvelling at how similar they were. "I was given a serum too. In fact, I have no idea how I'll age, but I guess I'm about to find out."

James nodded, gazing out over the water. "It seemed a good idea, back then. To live a long time. Now everybody I knew is very old and forgotten me."

Steve nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah, it's... not easy."

They sat in silence for a long moment, and slowly it dawned on Steve what this could mean, to find somebody else so like him. He carefully shuffled closer along the ledge, and leaned his shoulder into James.

"You know," Steve said softly, "it's been hard for me to find anyone with shared life experience. So, I guess what I want to say is... I'm glad I found you."

James looked at him with a fond smile on his face. "I'm glad you found me too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And they punched bad guys together every night happily ever after!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> I am on [tumblr](http://jro616.tumblr.com) and [twitter](https://twitter.com/jro616).
> 
> Btw, there's a bottom bucky book club now on discord, want to join? (18+ only) Invite [here](https://discord.gg/8mSX3eN).


End file.
